


Holding On To You

by melonsquirt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Affectionate!Winchesters, Aromantic!Reader - Freeform, Autistic!Reader, Caring!Winchesters, Dean is a Sweetheart, Fluff, Gen, How Do I Tag, I'm Sorry, Protective!Winchesters, Reader is a Sweetheart, Sam is a Sweetheart, Stimming, am i rambling too much?, and so i was like, and that kid is you, asexual!Reader, believe me, fuck it, i just have had a very hard time finding representation in this fandom, i'll make it myself!!!!, i'm just putting down what I feel fits, if i can't find that representation, maybe a pinch of angst here and there?, reader can play piano!!!, reader is 15, reader is also aroace, reader is autistic, reader is easily amused, reader stims, sam and dean are totally dads, sam and dean kind of adopt a kid, there will be lots of fluff I promise, this fic is pretty much a self-insert, yikes I do not know how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 21:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15760509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonsquirt/pseuds/melonsquirt
Summary: When you and your family are attacked by a pack of werewolves, the Winchesters themselves come to your rescue. Sam and Dean are reluctant to take you in at first, but they eventually grow a real soft spot for you, and realize that they don't want to give you away after all. The brothers then find themselves traveling down the tricky road of raising a teenager.





	Holding On To You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Thanks for clicking on this story. I suppose the purpose of this narrative was to create the representation that I was otherwise not able to find in the Supernatural fandom. If you can relate to this, and you too are aro/ace and/or autistic, I especially hope you enjoy! If you are neither of those things, that is perfectly fine! Either way, I do hope you enjoy.

You clamped your hands over your ears as gunshots rang out outside your room. There was the sound of a body hitting the floor with a thud, and then heavy footsteps approached your door. As hurriedly and silently as you could, you rushed to your closet and closed the doors behind you before hunching into the farthest corner. You didn't know what was happening. These... these things had come into your home and were attacking the people you lived with. One of them had attacked you with its claws, leaving a nasty gash on your shoulder and a deep scratch on your cheek. In an attempt to stop the bleeding, you had pressed one of your shirts to your back, and another to your cheek. You flinched as you heard the doorknob jiggle, and a sudden bang on the door made you jump entirely. Another impact followed, then another, until you heard wood splintering and the door slamming against the wall. The monster had gotten into your room! You curled your shaking figure tighter and watched through the slats of the closet doors as a giant figure entered the room. You breathed as quietly as you could, not daring to make even the slightest sound. It was when the figure neared the closet that you knew this was the end. Just play dead.  
The creature faltered for a moment, and you prayed to whatever higher power that may be listening that the it would change its mind and turn around. You loosened up your mucsles, closed your eyes, and slumped forward, trying to give the appearance that you were dead. Your hope was short-lived, for the door was suddenly yanked open, revealing you. You stayed as still as you possibly could, barely breathing. You just wanted it to be over with quickly.  
But it did not attack. Perhaps it was playing with you. You did not move, did not make a sound. The entity spoke.  
"Dean?"  
Another pair of footsteps entered the room and stopped in front of you. A second voice spoke up, even gruffer than the last. "Son of a bitch."  
"Wait, I think she's breathing," the first spoke.  
Shit. So much for that.  
You heard one of them get even closer, and opened your eye just a crack to see it crouch down beside you. A hand came towards you and touched your neck, causing you to flinch involuntarily.  
"Yep, still alive," the second one, whom you presumed to be "Dean," spoke. You curled back up into a tight ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible. All of this was too much. This morning, you were playing a game in the living room, when suddenly these things stormed into your house, ripping your other house members to shreds. One had almost got you, and now you were here, about to be monster-chow.  
"Hey," the first one spoke, softly. "Can you tell me your name?"  
You looked up to see a very large man with shaggy brown hair smiling gently at you. He didn't look like he wanted to eat you. Behind him was another man with short-cropped dirty blond hair. That man looked much more menacing; the look he gave you was no where near as friendly as the other one, and it didn't help that he was holding a gun in his hands. You looked back to the man closer to you. You couldn't speak even if you wanted to. You just so exhausted from everything, and your shoulder wound was still bleeding an awful lot. Your eyelids grew heavy, and you slumped forward again before everything went dark.

*********  
"Shit!"  
Sam lurched forward to catch you. There was a laceration in your cheek that was still oozing blood, bright crimson against your paled face. Judging by your appearance, you were incredibly malnourished, for your arms were almost stick-like, and the bones at your elbows were very visible. Sam gently pulled you out from the closet and picked you up. His hand touched something warm and wet, and when he pulled his hand back, it was covered in cherry red.  
Dean winced upon seeing your injury. "No wonder she passed out. Bring her out to the car, I'll get the first aid kit."  
Sam carried your bony frame out of your room and out of the house. A part of him was actually glad that you were unconcious; you didn't need to see the gory scene surrounding them in this house. You had already been through enough. He brought you to the Impala and set you in the back seat, where he supported you as Dean got to work, carefully removing your shirt and observing the wound. It would certainly require stitches. First, he cleaned up as much of the blood as he could and disinfected it with wipes, before stitching it up and covering it with gauze. He discarded your old shirt and replaced it with one of his own, putting it on you. Sam laid you down, and they left the house.

*********

As you came to, you noticed an unfamiliar texture beneath you, and you slowly opened your eyes. You were in a motel room. You looked behind you to see the two men from earlier sitting at a table. The one with the short hair noticed your movements and got up from his seat.  
"Hey, welcome back," he greeted. "How're you feeling?"  
"Okay," you speak after a moment, sitting up. You then notice the bandages on your cheek and run a finger over them before noticing the gauze covering your shoulder. You run your fingers over that, too, feeling the rough fabric, paying little mind to the pain underneath it.  
"You got scratched pretty bad back there. Had to put stitches on it," the shorter man explained. You rocked back and forth, trying to calm yourself after remembering everything that had happened. The screaming, the strange creature attacking you with its vicious claws and its ugly face. You looked back to the men. Who were these guys? Were they also monsters?  
"You hungry?" You looked up at them again, still rocking. The last time you ate was at least... well, you didn't quite remember. Your stomach felt very empty. You nodded, and got up from the bed, approaching them. The shorter man rummaged in a paper bag, bringing out a wrapped burger and handing it to you. You looked up at him uncertainly, studying him, but not meeting his eyes. You did not speak.  
"'S okay, kiddo. We're not gonna hurt ya," he offered you a gentle smile. This man was nicer than you thought. You took the burger and took a seat at the table where the other man was. Almost as soon as you unwrapped your food, you began to eat ravenously.  
"Man, when's the last time you had a proper meal?" You didn't answer his question, just continued eating.  
"You wanna tell us your name?" The long-haired man asked. You didn't answer him, either. The brothers shared a glance before the short-haired man tapped semi-sharply on the table in front of you.  
"Hey," he barked, making you flinch. "He asked you a question." You looked between the two of them with widened eyes, mid-chew.  
"Dean," the taller man chastised. He leaned forward, his eyes soft. "It's alright, I know this is a lot to take in. My brother and I got you out of that house. You're safe now. I'm Sam Winchester, and this is Dean. I know we're strangers, but we're here to help you. What's your name?" He repeated the question.  
"Y/N," you whispered.  
"Y/N, huh?" Dean replied. You nodded.  
"Well, nice to meet you. How old are you?" He asked.  
"Fifteen."  
"Fifteen? Really? You look young for your age," Dean observed. You didn't reply. You continued on your burger, and when you finished, Dean pushed the bag towards you. "There's also some fries in there, if you want any. You probably need 'em more than we do."  
After a moment's hesitation, you pulled the bag towards you, and ate those, too. Dean asked you another question.  
"You have any friends or family you can stay with?"  
This made you think for a moment. You didn't have an awful lot of friends, and even the few that you did have, you weren't very close to them. And you knew that nobody in your family would take you. You shook your head. The brothers exchanged another look, and Dean made a motion towards the door at his brother. He then turned to you, giving you a smile.  
"Sorry, if you'll excuse us for a second."

*********** 

"So the kid doesn't have anywhere to stay. What're we gonna do? Take her to child protection services?" Dean asked. Sam wasn't too sure himself of what to do. Almost all of the young victims that they had helped in the past had relativess that they went to, but this kid had no one.  
Sam had a thought. It was a bit radical, but...  
"What if..."  
"What? Letting her stay in the Bunker?! It's a safe place, but that's no place for a kid!"  
"What other choice do we have, Dean?" Sam retorted. "You know how tough the state system is for kids, and she doesn't have anyone else to stay with. What better idea do you have?"  
Dean sighed in resignation, running his hands through his hair, taking a moment to think. "You know what?" He said. "Fine. We'll let her stay in the Bunker until we can find another place for her. But she can't stay."

************

When Sam and Dean came back into the room, you were pacing around, seemingly lost in your own world, muttering gibberish and repeating random phrases and flapping your hands in front of you.  
"Everything alright?" You stopped when you heard Dean's voice. You turned to face them.  
"Yeah, sorry," you uttered.  
"Nah, you don't have to apologize. we're headin' out soon. We're gonna take you somewhere safe, alright?"  
"Okay," you answered, then followed them out the door.  
This time, you actually got to appreciate the car that this man Dean drove. It was a beautiful sleek black 1967 Chevy Impala, and the moment you saw it, you gasped and flapped excitedly.  
"Impala!" You blurted. You loved classic cars, and spent almost all of your time collecting small car model toys and reading about them in books. "You drive an Impala?"  
"Damn right I do!" Dean was grinning, pleased at your exuberance. "Her name's Baby." Sam opened the rear door for you, and you slided in, immediately enamoured with the interior of the car. The brothers got in, and when Dean started the engine, he was sure to guage your reaction in the rear-view mirror. You were smiling ear-to-ear at the sound of the engine, and ran your hands over the leather seats.  
"So you like cars, huh?" Dean asked. You nodded. Sam was watching the two of you in blissful amusement. He had a feeling that you and Dean would get along just fine. It was then that you went off on a tangent, rattling on about your favorite makes and models and all the little bits of trivia that you had gathered over time. Both of them were taken aback at how suddenly long-winded you were; you were almost mute earlier, but now you had been talking non-stop, and Dean was loving every minute of it. He asked you about the parts of an engine and how they worked, and you answered them all correctly. Easy to say, the brothers were simply amazed. You had waved your hands in front of you excitedly, and bounced and rocked in your seat. You had a lot of energy...  
You had talked yourself to exhaustion, and eventually you fell asleep, laying down in the back seat. Dean looked at you with a newfound affection. He hadn't even known you for twenty four hours, and you were already growing immensely on him. Sam was tempted to laugh at Dean's previous apprehension at letting you stay with them, for he knew now that Dean was quickly developing a soft spot for you. Sam couldn't blame him; you were endearing in your own way, and he too had a feeling that it would be very difficult to let you go. Sam was becoming very fond of you himself.  
They arrived at the Bunker late at night, and Sam grabbed your bag that he had spotted at the house. It had some of your belongings in it, and he had gone through your drawers, tossing random clothes into the bag before taking it along with them. He turned to you, sleeping there in the back seat, and gently prodded you awake.  
"Hey, we're here." You slowly opened your eyes and rubbed them before getting out of the back seat of the car. You cast a longing glance back towards Baby as you followed the brothers into this strange building. Upon entering, you ogled at the interior. It was an absolute labrynth that these two giants seemed to know their way perfectly around, with countless doors leading to who-knows-where. Dean led you down the corridor to a particular door with a brass number 13 on it. Above the number was a strange symbol that you had never seen before.  
He opened the door, and you walked in with him following behind. "You can stay here for tonight. If you need me for anything, I'm right next door in 12. Oh, and... Here's your stuff."  
Dean handed you your bag, which you took gingerly from him before giving him a big smile. You set it down on the bed before turning around and approaching him again, this time wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. You were ever so grateful for the kind act of these men to, not only rescue you, but to give you another place to stay, as well. "Thank you so much!" Your voice was muffled by his chest, and Dean chuckled. He returned your embrace with just as much gusto.  
"Hey, no kid deserves to be werewolf-chow."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! You made it to the end! If you want, you can let me know what you think in the comments. This is my second fic that I've released into the public, and I am admittedly nervous. regardless, thank you for reading!


End file.
